


Lashing Out

by locusdesperatus



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Abuse, Bullying, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24013516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locusdesperatus/pseuds/locusdesperatus
Summary: Leon hurts so prettily. He always has.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Lashing Out

**[Washington DC, USA  
August, 1999]**

"You got this." Leon whispered. He straightened the front of his shirt, smoothing his tie down against his chest. He was honored that Director Simmons had asked to go over his recent evaluations. He'd only been in the government's training program for a few months, and the higher ups already seemed impressed. Needless to say, Leon was a bit proud of himself, and a bit nervous. He took one last, calming breath before entering the conference room. 

"Ah, Agent Kennedy." Simmons stood up, coming over to shake hands. "Thank you for coming."

"Uh- thank you for having me." Leon stammered out. He had been expecting a board of review, maybe even other members of staff- none of that was present, and he was beginning to get worried.

"I've been looking at your latest combat scores, as well as your formal education, and I have to say…" Simmons let the stack of files hit the table for emphasis. "I'm not sure what they saw in you."

"S-Sir?" Leon frowned.

"It's… it's mediocre." Simmons shook his head. "You're falling behind, you're not doing well on practical exams- there's a note here from your Sargeant that says you had a breakdown during a training exercise!" 

"Sir, I-"

"I won't _take_ excuses!" Simmons yelled. Leon flinched away, eyes wide with fear. "You came here to learn how to fight, not to embarrass yourself and everyone who put you in this program."

"Y-Yes, sir." Leon held up his arms, as if he was protecting himself. "Um-"

"Quiet." Simmons snapped. He swung his arm, slapping Leon across the face. The sweet little cry he heard made his pulse jump to his throat. He had been right. This one was going to be fun to hurt. Soft blue eyes stared at him, red around the rims. Beautiful. There was a red mark where his hand had made contact, warming one cheek. Leon still looked stunned, his mouth hanging open dumbly. Simmons decided that he looked quite like a lost puppy. 

"Are you going to cry?" He asked.

"Why-" Leon cut himself off when he was struck again. "Hey-" He struggled, but Simmons was stronger. He was grabbed around the waist and hauled towards the table in the center of the room. 

"You waste my time and my resources!" Simmons tossed him forward, watching him hit the table, then bounce to the ground.

"What are you-" Leon went quiet when a foot made contact with his stomach. He crumpled over, arms wrapping around himself.

"Fucking _useless!_ " Simmons yelled. He aimed another kick into Leon's shoulder, forcing him onto his side. He really was crying, fat tears leaving shiny tracks on his cheeks. His face was red, and his lower lip was quivering, a pathetic sight. The kick had knocked the wind out of him, he was still struggling to get his breath. Simmons sneered down at him.

"Please-" Leon whimpered. He cried out loudly when he was hit in the face. That sweet, boyish face. Simmons pulled his head up with a fistful of blond hair. His knuckles had dusted across one eye, which seemed reluctant to open. The area was discolored and already beginning to swell. He'd definitely have a black eye in the morning. Good. He needed a reminder. They both did. Simmons would feel blood rush south every time he caught sight of the boy trying to hide the bruise. His innocent looks thoroughly ruined, the sad look in his eyes, the whispers of the other agents… Delicious.

"A few more, I think. To really drive the point home." Simmons said. The look of fear in Leon's eyes was like heroin. 

**[Lanshiang, China  
June, 2013]**

"No!" Leon tumbled backwards, bouncing off the side of a box truck. He hit the ground with a painful _thud!_

"Even after all these years." Simmons felt his skin rippling and crackling. "Nothing has changed. You're still just a weak little brat that needs to be put in his place." He slapped Leon, delighting in how long, blond bangs swished through the air. The soft gasp was like music. It had been much too long since he'd gotten to kick around _Agent Kennedy_. He was aiming punches and kicks before he was fully aware of it, his blood pressure jumping with every blow that landed. Leon struggled and yelled with every hit, trying to crawl away and hide. Simmons would have none of it. He grabbed one slender ankle, dragging him backwards across the ground. 

"W-Wait!" Leon begged. His nose was crooked and leaking blood. Even before the bleeding had started, he'd been having trouble breathing. Something in his chest was clearly damaged. "Wait, stop-" 

"No." Simmons grabbed a fistful of blond hair, shuddering at how soft it was. He dragged Leon close, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. "You can beg all you want, but you know I won't stop until I'm satisfied." He whispered. His knee dug into soft, unprotected flesh. Leon gagged, his stomach reeling from the blow. Before he could recover, he was slapped twice, snapping his head back and forth and making his ears ring. Simmons tossed him away, letting him bounce off of the concrete. Leon whimpered, paralyzed by the memories that had bubbled up. He felt so small, suddenly, so weak. Like he was back in basic training, back at the stratcom facility. Years of his life had been wasted under Simmons' thumb. He'd been treated like garbage until Adam had rescued him. Now, that protection was gone. 

"Hngh!" Leon grunted, eyes flying open when a foot planted on his stomach. He gasped for air, pushing uselessly at the half-mutated leg crushing his organs. 

"You've always been _weak_." Simmons said. "I know you used to cry yourself to sleep. Do you still do that?" He asked. "Or do you just drown yourself in booze and hope it will be enough?" Without waiting for a response, he kicked Leon in the mouth, delighting in how his foot met bone and skin. Savoring the pained moans, he looked down to assess the damage. Leon's lip was split, blood beginning to trickle down his chin. His whole face would be a mess. Simmons knelt down, allowing his toy time to catch his breath. He pet down soft locks of hair, trailing his fingers lower to smear blood on pale skin. Stubble grated against his palm. Leon Scott Kennedy had always been the perfect pet, naive and trusting. Now, with his face busted and ribs undoubtedly cracked, he was even more perfect. He was older, more filled out. His body would fit well in an old police uniform, maybe one a little on the small side. It would do wonders for Simmons' stress levels to have a personal plaything again. A little doll for him to dress up and abuse. 

"I had a feeling everything would come full circle." He said. With Leon marked MIA in the government's files, he had the perfect opportunity to steal him away. No one would notice, no one would know where he'd gone. It was the perfect opportunity. "Why don't you come work for me?" He asked. "I'll train you to be better than they ever did." 

"I hate you." Leon wheezed at him. He was trembling, trying to get his arms and legs to respond properly. 

Simmons felt anger bubble up inside him. He moved, quick as lightning, and stomped on gloved fingers. Leon let out a strained yell. The pain had worsened every other ache in his body, and now he was caught in a vicious loop. 

"Ungrateful _whelp!_ " Simmons roared. He raised his fist again, delighting in the terror shining through tired blue eyes. Claws morphed out of his hand. He had changed his mind. Leon was too stubborn to ever be of any use, his only contribution to The Family would be dying, alone and in pain. 

Leon closed his eyes, setting his jaw. He felt tears spill over his cheeks, against his will. He knew he was about to die. A gunshot startled him, and then a few more after it. He looked up to see Helena, firing on Simmons. She'd managed to stun the tyrannical director, who was stumbling for cover. 

"Leon!" She called. He rolled onto his side, bringing his knees up as far as he could. His whole body ached from the beating. Simmons knew how to hit him where it hurt, emotionally and physically. 

"I'm fine." Leon lied. He pushed himself upright, blinking when Helena coated him with first aid spray. The mint smell burned his bleeding nose, but did a good job of healing his chest and stomach. 

"We'll get him." 

"I'm afraid we'll be fourteen years too late." 

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @pointofdespair


End file.
